Nose To the Wind
by Hillside Dancing On
Summary: Then why does that hound get the fox on the run? Saïx, Axel, things taken literally. One-shot. Non AU.


**Disclaimer: **Kingdom Hearts is the property of its owners, and the writer of this work of fiction makes no profit from their use. I just enjoy playing with the characters and, like Roxas, am always forced to give them back.

**Rating:** T for momentary crudeness.  
**Pairings:** Mention of Akuroku. Shades of Isa/Lea, if you like.  
**Notes**: Would that I could say a lot of research went into this, but mostly I just watched The Fox And The Hound. Which radiates Lea/Isa/Saïx/Axel.  
**Word Count:** 1431

* * *

The trail cuts through the stars, past the planets, right to this useless, empty world, the one that should have been devoured by the heartless long ago.

Worlds that involve transformation are a lethal gamble, and the former assassin has always been a poor gambler. But Beserkers won't follow a master who runs on four legs, and Dusks don't have the sense to know the difference. Saïx would almost be impressed, if he still had the capacity, and it weren't so apparent that Axel's getting desperate.

He can smell him so easily, his brain catching and holding it and keeping it elevated above all others; wet earth, the coming rain, other animals. A distinct, stinging hybrid of skunk musk and cat piss. Faintly smoldering wood ash beneath it, and that one has been a constant ever since they changed, so Saïx knows he isn't chasing some poor, brainless tod.

It's too early for moonlight, or else this would be over in the space of an hour. But the Diviner is accustomed to making do with what he has.

His muscles ripple and burn beneath the heavy blue coat, poised to carry him for miles. Lean, blunt strength, not enough to suit his tastes, but more than enough to break a traitor in two. This, along with the super enhanced olfactory senses, means that the shaming effect of being turned into a wild canine is somewhat compromised, and Saïx's memory of dignity breaks even.

Loping over fallen branches, tall grasses, thorns and mossy stones, he follows the scent trail where it guides him, blazing past all the various tricks Axel has tried to throw. When the trail cools at a riverside, he calculates the current and picks it up half a mile downstream. When he comes to a portion of the forest that's still smoldering, a semi-controlled burn over damp leaves, it's a simple matter of getting back to the greenery beyond, and there it is.

Axel has never been able to hide from him. Not when their Somebodies were children playing hide and seek with pearls of sugar on their palms, and not now.

Saïx finds him under a dead maple, not too far from the river. The faded yellow of a posted sign flashes nearby; some sort of game preserve. The irony is not lost. Saïx hears him first, the slow drag of breath, the faintest rustle of leaves, and understands then that this was not merely another attempt throwing off any pursuers. Axel came here to steal fifteen minutes of sleep, plan his next move, and catch his breath.

Saïx has no intentions of allowing that to happen.

He tries to stay downwind as he approaches the tree, hoping to spare himself a potential bite by taking the flurry out while he sleeps. Alas, he's not the only one to have been gifted a heightened sense of smell by this world's powers, and is greeted by the sight of alert emerald eyes shining back at him in the dark.

It registers little surprise when a voice drifts out to greet him.

"Typical. I should have expected this."

Saïx lowers his head and sees him through the shadows, the long, lithe body and rich red fur. He tries to estimate the space between tree and earth, whether or not he can force his upper body in.

"Only a fool would attempt to betray the Organization in such a manner. Only you would expect to get off without repercussions."

"Actually, I meant your new body. Should have known they'd make you a wolfdog. Suites you, y'know?" He smiles then, like a fox. Like he hasn't broken every promise they've ever made to one another, and _oh, _how Saïx longs for a heart to hate him with. "So what now? You gonna skin me and take my pelt back to Xemnas?"

"My orders are to pursue and eliminate you. This world is as good as any other." He slides back and forth along the entrance to the makeshift den, so Axel doesn't see the way he's dragging his claws along the loose soil, making space. He breathes long and low, wanting the heat of each exhale to make the assassin's skin crawl. "If you've chosen to end your existence as a stinking animal, that's your own decision."

Saïx hears him chuckle, but there's a shift of the faintest movement as his hackles rise. "I've gotten kind of used to making my own decisions."

"Let's not prevaricate. You know as well as I do the reason for your desertion," Saïx says calmly, and he's going to drag him out by the head, break his neck with his own teeth. Whiskers are pursed, and an ear flicks towards a corner of the den, but nothing happens. Summoning a corridor to darkness isn't as effortless in the body of an animal.

"I don't think you know anything about me."

"You are a liar and a traitor, Axel. What's more, you're a disgrace to the very creature you masquerade as. A real fox knows when it's time to walk away from the trap and let its mate grow cold."

If he blinked, he would have missed the way those green eyes whimpered. But Saïx has come to kill Axel, not to break whatever heart he thinks he has or tell him what he already knows, and an instant's falter is all he needs.

Suddenly he's through the space, powerful shoulders pushing at the fallen tree, and his prey is _right there in front of him. _His paws gouge at the soil and his jaws snap savagely and it's so much more satisfying because it's not a wild creature's mind screaming at him to finish this; that burning desire to kill is entirely lucid, and entirely his.

He bites down onto something warm and giving. Fragile vulpine bones press against his teeth, poised to crack like tinder. There's a tang of blood, and Axel screams –

Saïx thrashes his way backwards as his face, his eyes, are engulfed in searing heat. He presses down against the cool, moist undergrowth of the forest floor, rolls his head there, until the pain eases off and he's able to see once more. The entrance to the makeshift den has disappeared completely, replaced by a cascade of thick, black smoke, and while he doesn't allow himself to hope, it remains that even Axel can't ignite himself without taking damage.

The breeze changes and draws his attention to a nearby ridge, where a ripple of red coat slides along the grass like a blood trail. He has just enough time to take note of the uneven, limping gait, before it vanishes into a hole in the world.

Back to chasing a ghost.

Absolutely pathetic.

He's utterly disgusted with himself, not just for allowing Axel to slip away again, but a deeper shadow of loathing. If he'd had any sense at all, he thinks, he would have gone into that virtual town himself, dragged the thirteenth member out by hand, and beaten every last memory back into him.

Would have stopped this senseless charade the day he realized Axel was faltering, long before he realized how much he liked to come inside the brat.

Would have known better than to allow his plans to lean on the Nobody of Lea, who had always preferred his own rules to those that made sense.

But composure is one of the few things Saïx can lay claim to, and he takes care not to lose it now. Calmly, he calls up a portal to darkness and takes his leave through it, leaving this body and this forest behind. Relishes in the waves of change that take him back to himself.

Because deep down, beyond the storm brewing in his empty chest, there's relief. No...just a ghost of relief. For as much as he wants this to be over, he doesn't want to see Axel die as the hunted animal he's become. When the light leaves those bright eyes, he needs to see a human face looking back at him and know that there is nothing, nothing, of Lea's to be found in it.

Then Saïx can return to the task that's always needed to be done, this balancing act of righting the universe. He will piece himself together on his own. He will find a way, and be content _(truly content) _that it was the only foreseeable outcome, right from the start.

And maybe, hopefully, whatever is left of Isa will at last be able to agree, and fall quiet.

~End~


End file.
